


Soup

by McVetty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 07:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McVetty/pseuds/McVetty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim Moriarty is feeling a bit under the weather, the only person who can take care of him is his own hitman, Sebastian Moran.</p><p>Fluffy drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soup

Jim flipped over, tugging the blankets from the couch onto the floor. He stared at the pile in disgust, sniffling and rubbing at his red nose. Sebastian Moran leaned into the living room from the kitchen, a white apron proclaiming _Kiss the Chef_ tied around his neck. He cocked an eyebrow at the pile on the floor and disappeared into the other room. After a clatter of pots and pans, the tall hitman walked into the livingroom and plucked the blankets off the floor.

“Stop that,” he said sternly, draping the heavy blankets over his boss.

Jim curled up into the fetal position and sniffled, grunting in response.

Seb sighed and trudged back into the kitchen. As soon as he was gone, Jim kicked the blankets off and turned over to face the back of the couch. Several minutes passed before Seb walked back out, holding a bowl of steaming hot soup. He gave the blankets a second glance, shook his head, and knelt by the side of the couch.

“Turn over,” he said, no nonsense in his voice.

“No.”

“Jim.”

“Go away.”

“Turn over and sit up.”

Jim shrugged and pulled his knees to his chest. “No.”

“You have to eat.”

“I don't want to eat,” Jim grumbled. “I'll make them into shoes.”

“You're not making anyone into shoes, Jim,” Seb said, hiding a grin.

“I'll make you into shoes,” Jim threatened under his breath, turning over to face his hitman with a runny nose and the stubborn attitude of a child.

Seb sighed, prodding the spoon into the bowl. “I'd like to see you try.”

“I could.”

“That's nice, boss. Now, eat some soup so you can get better.”


End file.
